


Sometimes...Clarke Can Cook

by HurricaneJane



Series: Quality Ingredients One Shots [16]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:15:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27179089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HurricaneJane/pseuds/HurricaneJane
Summary: Tumblr Ask:QI - Clarke cooks for Lexa. I don’t know if it’s a random night. Or for some occasion. I’m imaging at Lexa’s house, but I could be wrong. How does that go? What does she make?Sidenote - when is the last time Clarke had to cook for herself? Between Lexa and Octavia does she ever?
Relationships: Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Series: Quality Ingredients One Shots [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589668
Comments: 3
Kudos: 92





	Sometimes...Clarke Can Cook

Lexa was diagonal and alone on her bed when she woke up. 

The duvet was crumpled in a ball near her feet and the pillows had taken up residency all over the mattress. The scent of Clarke’s hair and Clarke’s sweat lingered on the sheets, but she was nowhere to be found. Lexa could faintly smell bacon and a few notes of Neil Diamond’s ‘Cherry Cherry’ wafted up the stairs and sounded like it was getting closer.

“Good morning, Lex,” Clarke grinned in the doorway.

Clarke had on one of Lexa’s tailored oxford shirts with just two of the buttons fastened, exposing just enough of her chest to perk Lexa up. She had her phone in the breast pocket playing music and a tray with coffees and two giant burritos on it in her hands.

“What’s all this?” Lexa sleepily rolled onto her side to get a better view of Clarke in all of her domestic morning glory.

They had been on black tie dates. They had been on casual dates. They saw each other in work clothes all the time, but nothing could top the morning versions of Clarke making herself at home in Lexa’s house.

“I couldn’t sleep because I was too hungry,” Clarke’s smile was sheepish. “You were still out cold, and after last night I’m not at all surprised,” Clarke winked and handed Lexa a mug of coffee. 

It had been one of those perfect nights.

They both got out of work at a normal hour and had Anya and Roan over for cocktails and snacks. Roan and Lexa’s relationship had come a very long way. Clarke’s gentle prodding that Lexa should get to know him as her best friend and cousin’s significant other and less as her sous chef lead to a few really fun evenings at Lexa’s place. 

Roan was a surprisingly good bartender. Lexa kept the snacks coming at levels that would remind Roan of his place while simultaneously impressing her girlfriend. Anya and Clarke spent the evening being waited on and showering their talented partners in praise to get even more snacks and more drinks.

After they left, Clarke took over the bar. Between her heavy-handed margaritas and being 24 carat love stoned on each other, they started making out in the kitchen and landed in bed an hour or so later.

The sun was coming up when they finally drifted off to sleep in a pile of tanged limbs and soft kisses.

“So I made us some breakfast burritos,” Clarke proudly held the tray up.

“Clarke Griffin, you grow lovelier by the day,” Lexa joked in a raspy, hung over voice. Her hair was a wild mess, her makeup was smudged, and she had nothing on but a wristwatch.

“Maybe save that praise until after you try it,” Clarke chuckled as she set the tray on the bed and crawled back in. “I don’t usually work with such high-end ingredients. It might not be as good as my usual.”

“Well, Chef,” Lexa propped herself up on her elbow and reached for one of the burritos. “Why don’t you walk me through your process and tell me what I have before me.”

“Inside of your flour tortilla, we have scrambled eggs, a few different kinds of cheeses that didn’t have any labels, but they tasted good,” Clarke giggled. “There’s chopped bacon, some fried potatoes, avocado, a bunch of pickles.”

“Pickles, huh?” Lexa quirked a brow.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Clarke said with her mouth full after taking a huge bite. “You need that acid.”

“Oui, Chef,” Lexa attempted to laugh but couldn’t quite get there. The hangover headache brewing between her eyes was making itself known with gusto.

“I found some salsa and a cool hot sauce in your fridge, so that’s in there. Salt and pepper,” Clarke looked away in thought as she chewed. “Oh! I grilled up some onions, too.”

Lexa shrugged and took a big bite. She chewed quietly in thought before closing her eyes and dropping her head back.

“Clarke,” Lexa said frankly after swallowing her bite. “This is absolutely delicious.”

“Thank you!” Clarke beamed a huge smile at her. “You’re not just saying that because you think I’m pretty?”

“I don’t think you’re pretty,” Lexa said hoarsely. Clarke scoffed at her. “I think you’re an absolute bombshell, and this burrito is only making you even more beautiful.”

“Oh, you think you’re so funny,” Clarke rolled her eyes before dropping a kiss on the top of Lexa’s head.

“For real, though,” Lexa chewed thoughtfully. “You’ve done some really nice work here. You always say you can’t cook, but you know your food.”

“I guess it’s less that I can’t cook and more that I literally just don’t,” Clarke shrugged. “But when I do, it’s because I’m hungover.”

“I’m going to store this information in a safe place,” Lexa smirked and held up her burrito before taking another big bite. 

“Between you and Octavia and the hospital cafeteria, I can’t remember the last time I made myself a meal,” Clarke chuckled.

“That hospital cafeteria is an abomination and I cringe knowing how often you eat there,” Lexa muttered.

“It’s not that bad!” Clarke laughed. “Nothing compares to when you bring me food, though.”

“Why do you think I keep doing it?” Lexa grinned up at her.


End file.
